The Heist
by castiel-the-pizza-man
Summary: Dean Winchester works as a driver for an armored vehicle company, transporting items from a wealthy, yet secretive, company where Castiel Novak works at. When Dean is forced into participating in a heist it will change the two men forever. Hopefully both men will make it out alive. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** The Heist  
**Author:** castiel-thepizzaman  
**Pairing:** eventual Dean/Castiel  
**Rating:** NC-17 or M overall, this chapter is PG.  
**Warnings:** None. I do not own Supernatural.

**A/N: **So I wrote this on the airplane, and I decided to post it. I hope to placates anyone who is upset that I haven't posted on my other two Supernatural stories. I'm a slow proof reader... Ill get them up soon, I promise.

Oh yeah, I suck at summaries. Especially since this is not all written out yet.

Anyways, enjoy!

Chapter One

The first time Dean ever picked up the package he was extremely late, bordering about a half hour behind the time he was scheduled to arrive. He drove around the large marble building, staring up at the skyscraper as it seemed to wave in the sky from the light breeze. Bobby had given him this job, Dean had practically begged for it due to the increase in Sam's tuition and the desperate need for money to pay for the expensive law books. Driving an armored car around was really not as amazing as it sounded, but it got the bills paid. The big, black, armored car took turns rather wide, and even though nothing could hurt it he still had to pay for the damage to other cars if he happened to clip them while passing by. He had started doing this job when Sam and him had just moved to the city, the younger brother excited about Stanford and his classes, while Dean just thought about the bills that would be piling up. His last boss, Rufus, had put in a good word for Dean and he was able to get a decent paying job driving around whatever the clients wanted him to transport. Whether it be jewelry, money, or something they preferred to keep quiet. Mainly, Dean had been working low end jobs, but then there was a call from a company run by Zachariah Adler, a very rich, very secretive company whose forefront showed them heavily involved with charities and giving back to the world. This only problem was this secretive company needed items moved every Friday night at ten. Most of the other workers were long done by that time, even if the job came with a major increase in pay. When it was offered to Dean, he took it without a second thought, knowing very well that he would still be up at that time of night and Sam would probably be studying, even if it was a Friday night, or out with Jessica and friends.

Except by the time he had finished up moving the large silver cases that were loaded with money from a branch bank to the main bank vault, he was slightly confused as to where to go. So, stopping for a coffee, Dean consulted his map of the city. He had been living there for three years all ready, but there were some thing that still confused him. He was a country boy, born and raised in Lawrence, Kansas and he not adjusted to the hustle and bustle of the city as well as Sam had. Finally planning a route that would cut down on the time as much as possible and still have easy access for an oversize vehicle, Dean set off towards the sky-scraper.

When he saw the building he knew that the owner of the K.O.K. company had hit a jackpot. Made of solid white marble, the building had to be over sixty stories high and the base took up multiple blocks. Even walking around it to get to a destination would be a pain. Dean pulled up to the gate and waved a pass over the scanner, alerting the people inside that he had arrived. Dean assumed there were people still in the building because multiple lights were on in the offices of the building, signaling that whoever worked there were dedicated and probably did not have a life. Dean chuckled at that as he pulled through, driving around the parking lot and trying to find the meeting place for the items.

Ten minutes later, Dean was still trying to find the area, granted, the building was rather large, but he couldn't find the loading deck. Finally, after passing an area with a six foot high shelf he decided that had to be the area he was supposed to be at. It was made out of an onyx colored marble which made a deep contrast against the white marble. The lights that illuminate the building from the ground flashed off the stone and hit Dean's pupils in a painful way, causing them to rapidly constrict from the light and then return to normal from the darkness around him. He pulled out and then backed up to the loading dock, turning off the car and taking the keys with him before he slid off the seat of the car and onto the smooth pavement beneath him.

The vehicle locked itself automatically whenever the door is closed and he jogged up the steps to the top of the deck and glanced around. Bobby told him that there would be an employee who would meet him, but at the moment it seemed that no one was in the area with him. Perhaps they were late also, or well, that was what Dean hoped since being fired for being late on his first day would just suck. He leaned against the back of the vehicle, his hands resting on the black paint as he drummed his fingers against the metal.

Suddenly, someone cleared their throat alerting him to the fact that he was not alone and that there was a presence with him. Glancing in the direction of the noise Dean noticed the flare of the end of a cigarette, softly lighting up the face of a man.

Dean pushed himself off the back of the truck and turned towards the man, waiting for him to speak or act first. Instead, he just blew out some smoke from between his lips and stared back, that dark area of his eyes unmoving as the shadows lay across him. They stood that way, the only movement was the man moving the cigarette to his lips and then back down to his side. Dean could not really see what he looked like but after five minutes the other human walked out from the shadows and moved to the trash can, placing the burned out cigarette in the ashtray. Dean took in the man's rumpled suit, and the trench coat hanging over his body as if he had lost weight since buying the item of clothing. The man's black hair was slightly messy as if he had ran his hand through it from a stressful day at the office and stubble had appeared along his jawline crating an aging effect.

Turning, the suited man walked in through a metal door on the side of a truck loading door and Dean had just wondered if he had spent five minutes watching the man he was supposed to meet or not. A small groan left his lips, he was throughly annoyed at this job and at this company and just as Dean was going to turn around and get back into the vehicle the door opened and the man came out again, carrying a heavy looking black case. When the employee walked up to him, Dean took the case, glancing up to see vibrant, blue eyes staring back at him. Their hands lingered on the handle, almost as if the smoker did not want to give it away, but then the hand let go and Dean was left attempting not to show his surprise at how much the case weight. Instead, he nodded at the man and turned, unlocking the back door of the van and pressing some numbers into a keypad, finishing the rest of the safety procedures before he put it in the back of the truck, secured in a small case holder.

When he emerged from the back of the truck and began the safety procedures again he could smell the faint traces of nicotine and saw the smoke curling through the air in the glare of the lights. Turning, he noticed the red tip of a cigarette being brought up to the mans light pink lips.

"That'll kill you, you know." Dean muttered under his breath with out thinking. Realizing what he said out loud Dean's head whipped up from the scanner to see if he had offended the employee. No emotion was on his face, but his head was tilted to the side as if he was trying to analyze something and found it too confusing. Dean took this as a good sign that the smoking man was not angry with him.

Shrugging, Dean turned and walked down the stairs, unlocking the drivers door and sliding in. Turning the car on, Dean pulled away, glancing in his mirror to see the lone figure smoking on the deck as the back lights of the vehicle illuminated him.

* * *

The next time Dean arrived ahead of time and made sure to check everywhere for the man before he realized that the other person had not arrived yet. He exited the door, pack of cigarettes in his hand before he noticed Dean already prepared. He shoved the pack back in his pocket before motioning with his hand for Dean to follow him. He brought him into the large warehouse room and lead him to a side storage door where he punched in a code and then scanned his retina and his thumb. When access was granted, the man opened the door and turned to look at Dean expectantly. Dean saw a large black case of the floor as well as a medium sized cardboard box. He went in and grabbed the black bag, surprised at how light it was compared to the case last week, and glanced over to see the man picking up the cardboard box. Often times, he was left to move everything himself and he was surprised that in a company like this an employee of obvious slightly higher status was helping him.

They walked together to the van in silence before Dean chuckled, "didn't make me wait for you to smoke this time."

"You weren't late this time. I had to wait for you so I figured you could wait for me." Dean was surprised by the voice of the other man, gruff and deep, it could almost be classified as scary if it held the right tone. He assumed this lowered and gravely voice came from how much the man smoked since Dean could see the slight twitching of the unoccupied hand near the pocket he had stored the nicotine addicting sticks.

Dean placed the bag on the black marble and proceeded to preform the necessary tasks to open the back doors of the vehicle. He heard the other man place the package on the floor and then step back, the riffling of clothes signaling that the man was finally getting his well needed cigarette. Dean opened the back door and placed the two packages in the truck before closing it and driving away, once again leaving the other man to his cigarette alone.

* * *

Weeks went by and Dean made his round to the K.O.K. company every friday. If he was late he had to wait for the ruffled looking man to finish his cigarette. Dean didn't really mind when that happened, it allowed him some time to think which seemed to be rarely often in his line of profession. He was always going somewhere, doing something, protecting something. He would just lean against the vehicle and rest his head on the shiny paint and think about the bills he needed to pay, the food he needed to buy in order for there to be some extra spending money for Sam, a fun trip they could go on this weekend. But, more often than not, Dean would arrive on time, having figured out the best route from the main bank to the company that involved some fun back alley twists.

Tonight was different, Dean was over half an hour late since Sam had forgotten to print out a paper and begged his older brother to bring it to him. Being a good older brother who wanted Sam to succeed, Dean agreed even if it meant that he would get to every job late after that. Pulling into the loading deck, he could see the red end of a cigarette glowing and Dean knew he would have to wait a while before he could load up the items and drive them to the vault that Zachariah wanted them stored in. Dean did not know what happened after he brought them there, nor did he want to know.

He was exhausted, every muscle in his body ached and there was a deep throbbing behind his eyes. The driver could not wait until this run was over and he could collapse on his shoddy bed in their small apartment. It was what he could afford and Sam was probably already asleep, or out with this girl he had been seeing regularly since he began college. The first time he had met Jessica he had come back from a visit to Rufus in Lawrence earlier than he was supposed to. Walking into the apartment in the middle of the night had freaked Sam out, not expecting his brother to return until mid-morning. A tussle on the floor had lead to Jessica coming out of Sam's room in nothing more than pajama shorts and a ratty smurf's t-shirt.

Let's just say, Dean knew he did not make the best first impression. Hitting on his younger brother's girlfriend as she stood awkwardly in the doorway, meeting her boyfriends brother for the first time and knowing the impression she gave off.

But Dean had to admit it, she was good for her younger brother and they all got along together, she had somehow been included into their small, tight-knit family.

A sigh escaped Dean's lips as he exited the car seeing his breath fog in the cool air and jogged up the metal stairs, wrapping his coat tighter around himself. Winter was coming, and even though it was mid fall, the cold seemed to swirl around the city, chilling people, and invading homes. The man seemed to be unaffected by the cold, his trench coat hanging open and his bare fingers rolling the cigarette between them. He stood in the same position he always did when Dean was late. Having no desire to stand anymore, Dean leaned against the opposite wall and slid down, kicking his feet out in front of him. The marble was cold beneath his legs and for the first time the driver thought about how impracticable it was for a building to be made out of marble.

Closing his eyes Dean let his mind slowly empty of thoughts before he drifted off into a cold, fitful sleep.

Fifteen minutes later Dean jolted upright, eyes wide as he realized that he had fallen asleep and precious time had passed since he had arrived. The other man was standing in the center of the deck, a large black suitcase placed next to him as his blue eyes turned and watched Dean struggle back to consciousness. Green eyes met blue in a wary glance before Dean stood and moved to the back of the truck and took a few seconds to open it.

Turning back to the man Dean cleared his throat awkwardly and held out his hand, "Dean Winchester."

A strong hand gripped his own and shook it, "Castiel Novak."

Now the driver had a name to go with a face, but the conversation ended there, neither of them seeming too keen to continue in the cold weather, so Dean picked up the case as placed it in the back of the truck, locking it up behind him. He nodded goodbye to Castiel and turned to jog off the platform, blowing warm air from his mouth onto his numb hands. The flick of a lighter could be heard behind him and Dean saw Castiel bring up the cigarette to his lips as he drove away from the building, heading towards the road.

* * *

"Fuckin' A, it's freezing." Dean muttered, hopping from foot to foot as he stared at the light spilling out from the metal door, the only thing blocking him from the warm air pumping through the vents.

"It's your fault. You closed the door behind you." Castiel grumbled, glancing down at the large black watch that resided on his wrist. "He said he would be here five minutes ago." For once it seemed as if the November chill in the air was getting to the suited man. He had drawn the trench coat tighter around himself, and his hands were twitching against his crossed arms. But then, Dean hadn't seen the man smoke yet since his arrival.

Castiel had not appeared when he had pulled in just before ten, and Dean opened the door to the building and called out his name. The man had arrived, looking more haggard, if possible, and exited the door to the outside before he called back to Dean not to close the door since he did not have the key on him. Unfortunately, the comment was just mili-seconds from the click of the latch on the door.

To say the least, Dean was very pissed at the turn of the events. Thanksgiving was this weekend and he still had to go shopping for food. And he wasn't getting any of the cheep stuff like he had the previous years. This time, he had saved up enough money to get Sam and him a real turkey and some good beer, along with the other usual items needed on a day of Thanksgiving. Many of the stores would be closing around midnight, but at the rate they were going it would be well past that time after Dean delivered the packages to their destination.

Hugging himself, Dean turned to look at Castiel, noticing that the man was giving the door a glare that could have exploded it into smithereens if at all possible. "So... got any plans for Thanksgiving?" It was just idle chatting, something to pass the time until the person arrived with a key to let them in.

The blue eyes turned from the door and onto Dean, causing him to feel slightly uncomfortable at the calculating gaze he was given. "No." The reply came and it left Dean with little more information that he previously had. Castiel tilted his head before asking, "you?"

Dean paused, reaching up to blow some warm air onto his hands before he curled his fingers into firsts, attempting to preserve the heat. He knew he should start wearing winter clothes, but he refused hats and gloves due to the fact that they were in California and it should not be getting this cold. "My younger brother and I are eating together, I'm not sure if his girlfriend is coming as well, but, the more the merrier."

There was a long pause after that before Castiel cleared his throat and began to speak again. Dean could tell he felt awkward which caused him to wonder if he asked a personal question. "My siblings invited me to eat with them, but I prefer to treat this holiday as any other day."

Dean nodded, he understood. This job must be time consuming, leaving little time for a life and he assumed Castiel would want to spend his vacation doing what he wanted. But still, couldn't Castiel spare some change to get a real turkey or some sort of substance that he did not have to heat in a microwave. Knowing it was none of his business, Dean tried to steer the weak conversation in a different direction. "What exactly do you do here?" He hoped this was safe territory, Dean wasn't trying to pry, but he and this man had been meeting up for months and he barely knew anything about him, hell, they had barely talked.

"That..." Castiel paused, "is something I cannot tell you." A ghost of a smile passed over his light pink lips as he turned his body to glance behind them, waiting for the tell-tale of headlights that would signal someone's arrival.

"Secretive. This company has it's reputation." A chuckle passed from the drivers lips as he moved his arms to hug around him again, wishing for nothing more than returning to the sanctuary of the driver's seat, to turn on the heat at full blast and bask in the feeling of the chill leaving his body. But that would be unprofessional, and he was not going to invite Castiel into the front of the vehicle with him.

Castiel's drumming of his finger's against his arms increased in tempo before the patted down the pockets of clothing. "Our reputation has been long held intact by the charities we support and the deeds we do."

Dean only half listened to the statement, too focused on the way Castiel's long fingers threw shadows against the bottom hem of his trench coat. "Are you okay?" The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them, but the way the man seemed agitated was far from his normal stoic and uncaring persona.

"No." Castiel snapped, and Dean hoped that he would not want to get into his feelings at the moment since the driver had no care or desire to listen to a man working for one of the richest companies complain about anything. "I'm tired, annoyed, the janitor should have been here fifteen minutes ago, and I left my pack of cigarettes on my desk in my office."

Castiel continued to glare out at the parking lot, as if trying to will the janitor into existence. It turned out that without his cigarettes and his daily dosage of nicotine, Castiel was an angry man who wanted nothing more than to smite anything in his way. Dean made a note of that so he could make sure that he was never in the man's path when withdrawals kicked in.

Not knowing what to respond with, Dean just clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and murmured, "ah."

Neither one of them broke the silence that blanketed them after that. It wasn't uncomfortable, they were used to the silence that surrounded them previously, it was just silence from the lack of anything to say. They seemed to have fulfilled their small talk quota for the day.

Headlights appeared around the marble corner, a small Ford truck appeared, meandering towards them at a leisurely pace. Castiel's face grew cold and storm clouds seemed to form in the bright, blue eyes, anger seething just beneath the surface. The janitor got out of the car and took one look at Castiel's face before he ran up the steps and hurried to unlock the door for them. Castiel went straight past the man and to the storage room, punching in the code and scanning his eye and his thumb before he turned and disappeared down another hallway, leaving Dean to deal with everything himself.

* * *

Since Dean began that conversation that late night before Thanksgiving, talking flowed easily between them. It never passed the realm of personal life since both of them had rather secretive jobs to begin with. Sometimes Dean would comment on the traffic or something Sam was doing, while Castiel might comment on how his coffee was in the morning or the book he had just bought on his way to work. It was rather pointless information, but through that they learned about each other. Castiel was from a large family from Pontiac, Illinois. He took the job here to get away from them and get a new perspective. He walked to work, living a few streets away and would get a coffee and a bagel from the same bakery every morning. He rarely got a day off and when he did he usually spent it reading, sleeping, or going to museums. Those were just the basics, Dean had gathered some information from the man during talks, and he enjoyed them, even if they were just pleasantries. In return, Dean had told the man that he was from Kansas, loved his Chevy Impala and was working to put his brother through law school. He wasn't too fond of the city, but enjoyed that there was a variety of food grouped in one place. Dean was sure he had let more slip, especially when Castiel would prompt him with another question about Dean's life, and in return, Dean couldn't help comparing, out loud, information to other things Castiel had said.

Christmas was rapidly approaching and Sam had finally been able to convince Dean to switch his leather coat for a more practical winter one. He felt stupid, as if the puffy, down, coat made him look three times his actual size and that he was unable to move his arms to the full extent he should be able to.

Dean knew he was early, but he did not have a problem waiting for Castiel. Though once he pulled in to the loading dock area and turned the vehicle around the lights illuminated the figure standing out on the deck surrounded by large, plastic cases. Once the vehicle was in position he shut it off and hopped out, jogging up the steps to meet Castiel.

"Eager today, aren't we?" Dean joked, scanning his thumb as he glanced over his shoulder at the shadowed figure.

Castiel blew out a line of smoke and cleared his throat, the sound of rough gravel echoing off the marble. "I apologize, I have something to tend to after this."

Dean shrugged, pulling open the door after he entered the code. "No problem, I never complain about getting into my bed earlier than planned."

There were five cases in all and Dean grabbed the first one, noticing that it weighed a great deal. Castiel grabbed another one and entered the vehicle behind him. "Thank you, Dean." It felt slightly awkward to be thanked for doing his job so Dean just shrugged and they loaded the cases in silence. He closed the back doors and turned, getting ready to leave before his eyes landed on Castiel who pulled an envelope out of an inside pocket and held it out. Dean took it, glancing at the white envelope where his name was written in neat, cursive script. "Christmas bonus. All employee's get one. Have a good night."

With that, the other man turned, entering the building and letting the door close quietly behind him while Dean stared in surprise at the place Castiel had been standing.

* * *

When Dean arrived he felt like a storm cloud was brewing over Castiel's head, blue eyes swimming with anger and the ability to snap at any second at anyone. Dean walked up the steps and shook his head. "Deep breath, man, deep breath."

For once, Castiel listened to him and closed his eyes, breathing in slowly and then breathing out equally as slow. "Do I really look that bad?"

"Yeah, even worse than when the woman gave you a mocha latte instead of a black coffee." Dean chuckled, leaning against the back of the truck, shoving his hands back into the familiar leather pockets of his jacket. The weather had warmed up, heading towards spring and Dean couldn't wait for the beach weather. The t-shirts and jeans. Being able to work on his baby with out fearing for his appendages.

Castiel's blue eyes glanced over at him as they headed into the building. "I was angry because I had already left the bakery and walked most of the way here before I realized her mistake. They almost lost a customer."

"You would have returned. You seem like a rather loyal person." Dean was being sincere, from what he knew of Castiel he believed in everything he was doing whole-heartedly. Although, Dean was not sure whether that was a good or bad thing. "But what is it this time?"

Castiel huffed as he entered the code into the door, reaching up to run a hand through his messy hair before it dropped down to his side and drummed anxiously against his thigh. "Due to a new regulation, smoking is forbidden on company grounds. This is to encourage smokers to quit. We're trying to build a reputation as a healthy company and we would not want to be giving the wrong impression to children or customers. I've gotten a memo that I must abdicate smoking at once because of my position."

Dean raised his eyebrows and ducked through the door to grab the black case, lifting it up by the handle. "They're forcing you to quit?"

"Something like that." Castiel growled back, his deep voice laced with traces of anger and annoyance as he followed Dean back outside, observing him.

Dean opened the back of the van and placed the case into the holder before he exited and shut the door behind him. "Well, all I can say is that I wish you luck. It's gonna be a struggle."

"That it will be. I shall see you next week, Dean." Castiel replied, nodding to Dean as he turned, walking down the stairs and headed across the parking lot. Dean assumed that Castiel was heading home, especially since he could no longer stay on the deck and smoke a cigarette before he headed out. Shaking his head in slight confusion, Dean followed the same path off the deck and get onto the drivers seat of his vehicle.

* * *

Each week that passed by, Castiel seemed to be getting better and better about the whole not smoking ordeal. Instead, he told Dean that he would go for runs in the morning instead of having multiple cigarettes while staring off his balcony. Cigarettes had been the addiction that staved off his stress and gave him something to look forward to, now he used exercise to combat the stress and leave him tired and ready for sleep by the end of the day. Dean joked that they could go running together one morning, as he was an avid runner himself, but Dean knew Castiel would never take him up on that offer. Castiel seemed to be more relaxed, and it was odd for the first few weeks seeing the man with a book, papers, or just standing there when he arrived, instead of rolling a cigarette around his fingers. Although one thing that stayed the same was his voice and Dean wondered if maybe Castiel had always had a voice like that and the multiple packs of cigarettes had not changed it to be that rough.

As the weeks went by he considered Castiel to be more than an acquaintance, they had become almost companions as they went thought their required tasks for the late night. He liked to think that, perhaps, if their situation were different, they could be good friends. That was something Dean had missed. Due to the life he led he had little time for friends. He needed to take care of Sam. Needed to support and provide for his younger brother. That was what came first over everything.

Though Dean was not sure as to what the other man thought of him. Castiel's facial expressions barely changed, or at least, that was the way it seemed in the dim lighting of the loading area. Sometimes it seemed like a ghost of a smile would pass across Castiel's lips, but Dean had only seen him actually smile once or twice in the whole time he knew him. There was anger, and that always seemed to be there, confusion perhaps, and the usual spectrum of emotions except they seemed to be muted, almost as if Castiel fought against letting them show.

* * *

When Castiel met Dean on the loading dock he looked the most worn he had since he quit smoking. "Hello, Dean." The words seemed drawn and his voice was rougher than before.

"Hey, Castiel. What's up?" Dean meant it in a normal greeting, but it was also an invitation to talk about what was bothering him if he needed to.

Castiel shrugged, thrumming his thumb against the side of his leg, the trench coat swirling around his body as a cool breeze blew around them. Halloween had just passed and Dean had been working for this company for over a year. "Just stressors with the company and the fear that my family will not leave me alone for this Thanksgiving. I've heard it from one of my brothers who lives in Los Angeles that they're trying to congregate in Stanford for the holiday in order to force me to participate with them."

Dean chuckled, taking the black, plastic case from Castiel and placing it in the back of the vehicle. "Sometimes seeing your family isn't a bad thing."

"There is a reason why I left Illinois and there is a reason why I cannot talk about my work." Castiel replied, running his now free hand through his hand in an agitated manor a sigh rushing from his mouth.

Dean raised his eyebrows at the mention of Castiel's work, that was a subject they always steered away from. The clear anxiety that the employee was showing caused Dean to hesitate for a second, unaccustomed to seeing so much emotion on the man unless it was anger. Usually so stoic, this was a different side to Castiel.

So he took a chance.

"You look like you could relax. Sam, Jess, and I were going out for drinks, you can come if you want." Dean offered, shrugging one of his shoulders as he leaned against the back of the truck, watching Castiel closely.

The man seemed to think about his offer for a few seconds, his head tilted to the side while his eyes drifted off to the side. Then his head straightened and his gaze landed on Dean and he nodded slowly, another ghost of a smile appearing on his lips. "I'd like that."

* * *

**A/N: **So... this is the first story I've ever posted without finishing it first. My first WIP, woot. So I guess suggestions as to what should happen are awesome. I already kinda have an idea in mind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** The Heist  
**Author:** castiel-thepizzaman  
**Pairing:** eventual Dean/Castiel  
**Rating:** NC-17 or M overall, this chapter is PGish.  
**Warnings:** None. I do not own Supernatural.

**A/N: **Thank's for the suggestions, I'll get working on them right away. Feel free to keep them coming, I want to know what people want from this. Boring Author's Note is boring.

Celphius, just... let me love you... please?

Chapter Two

Dean couldn't help the flash of surprise that crossed his face and he instantly composed his features into one of pleasant happiness when he saw uncertainty in Castiel's eyes.

"I apologize. It is improper of me to impose due to our strict work relationship." The deep voice rumbled against the marble walls of the building, swirling around them in a vibrating echo. Castiel's eyes looked away from Dean, studying the black tar of the parking lot intensely.

Dean shook his head, a small chuckle escaping him. "Honestly, Castiel, it's fine. I was just surprised that you accepted my offer."

The suited man nodded, understanding the predicament that Dean had placed himself in. "I thank you for it. I am in desperate need of relaxation, though I rarely have the time to participate in such a leisurely activity. But perhaps is is unprofessional..."

Shrugging, the driver closed the back door of the armored vehicle and turned back to face Castiel. He took in the other man's appearance, his ill-fitting suit and messy hair, the rough stubble that lined his jaw and stood out on the contours of his face. Dean had to admit, Castiel looked slightly worse for the wear, but nothing some alcohol and a good night of sleep wouldn't fix. He noticed that Castiel's fingers were no longer twitching at his sides, hitting the edge of his trench coat, instead the were relaxed, hanging loosely at his side as they conversed. His blue eyes were bright as ever, yet devoid of any emotion that could tell Dean how the man was reacting to the situation he was placed in. It seemed as if this invite, the prospect of company and liquor, had calmed him a great deal. A rush of pride passed through him at the thought that he had relaxed Castiel just by offering his friendship in a time of need. This made Dean realize that he could help other people, not just Sam and Jessica. But more than that, after over a year of meeting the employee in a professional way tonight they would share a moment as more that just acquaintances.

"Understandable. You should come though, first rounds on me." Dean smiled at Castiel, shoving his hands in his pockets as he rocked back on his heels.

"Dean- I-" Castiel began, faltering as he spoke alerting the other man to the fact that Castiel was thinking about money. It was an unpopular topic between them, but Dean knew Castiel had gleamed that money was tight due to Sam's Stanford education.

Dean interrupted, holding his hand up to stop the stuttering. Castiel closed his mouth, his parted lips coming together to form a line. "If it makes you feel any better, you can buy the next one."

Again, it took a few seconds for Castiel to mull over the new information before he nodded. "You raise enough incentive."

A larger smile formed on Dean's lips as Castiel agreed to the outing and he nodded, his green eyes watching the stoic face carefully. "Great, we're meeting at the Roadhouse. It's near the safe spot plus one of our friends runs the bar." Dean headed down the ramp before he paused, remembering that Castiel did not own a car and might need transportation across the city. "Do you need a ride?"

Castiel had followed Dean down the stairs after he had grabbed a blue, plastic folder off the onyx marble, coming to a smooth halt when Dean had stopped to talk to him. "No, I prefer walking. Dropping the cases off will be time consuming and I know you will want to trade the armored vehicle out for your car."

"Yeah, I don't want my baby to feel unloved." Dean chuckled, continuing down the ramp. "I'll see you there, alright?" Dean asked, unlocking the door of the car and sliding into the drivers seat.

"Of course, Dean." Castiel replied before he set off across the parking lot, his trench coat flowing behind him as he started off in a brisk jog. Dean watched him go, amazed that by the time he reached the end of the parking lot and turned onto the side walk, the man was in a full sprint, taking off down the road at an exceptionally fast pace.

* * *

Half an hour later Dean was pulling into a parking space in the lot in front of the Roadhouse, seeing the usual throng of cars for a late Friday night. It was going to be busy and crowded, but tonight, he did not want it any other way. There were some days he just wanted a few songs playing on the jukebox while he sat on a barstool and wolfed down one of Jo's famous bacon cheeseburgers and french fries. But tonight he wanted the press of people around him, the knowledge that he wasn't alone, and the company of the people he loved and cared about... and well, Castiel also. Who knows, tonight he might even get lucky, find a girl that was willing to put up with him for a few hours and take her home, giving her and himself a very good time. Of course, that was a shaky prospect since he hadn't been with a woman for quite a long time. Multiple things had kept on getting the way leaving him on a relatively long absence of intamacy. He had pretended not to mind, especially since most of the time it was for Sam. Although, hearing him and Jess having sex a few rooms over did nothing for Dean's ego. His own brother was in a healthy, decent relationship and having steady availability of sex with the girl that he loves. One good thing about the night was that they were drinking at the Roadhouse and anything was bound to happen.

When he entered the establishment he was hit with the warm air created from bodies being pressed together and the smell of liquor and fried food. Dean breathed in deeply, missing the scent and environment since he was often too tired to do anything after work most day. Usually, Dean would return home and cook a half-decent mean for him and Sam, sometimes Jess as well, watch some T.V. or if he felt like it, he might work on his car or the apartment, and then proceed to bed for a fitful night's sleep. Though, Sam begged him to come out and drink for the night with him and his girlfriend, fearing that his brother's monotonous lifestyle was taking a toll on him. Dean snorted, remembering Sam muttering about how he needed to get out of the house and do some of the old things he liked while pressuring Dean to come along. He couldn't deny the feelings he got when he heard the music drifting through the air, the shot contact of skin as someone moved around him to exit the building. He enjoyed this.

Lost in thought, Dean jerked back when he felt a hand encircle his bicep, his other hand reaching to his side but grasping for air. He had left his service weapon in the glove box of the Impala. It was required by the company to be armed just for safety and precaution. Dean had never had to use it, but it was always strapped at his hip for his convenience.

"Dean?" The man looked up, seeing his brother standing next to him and looking down the few inches in their height difference. Dean took in his brother's appearance, the brown shaggy hair tucked behind his hair, hazel eyes question the position of his hand, and the dark circles under his eyes due to the late night he pulled finishing a law paper last night. "You okay?"

Cleaning his throat, Dean nodded, relaxing his arm and making it hang next to his side. "Yeah, Sammy, sorry, just surprised me."

Sam gave his brother a questioning look before he shrugged, deciding to let the action go. Sam knew that his brother was sometimes slightly twitchy after coming off his job. It was a high pressured occupation with multiple hazards and Sam worried about his brother's safe return every night. "Okay, well, Jess and I claimed a booth over there." Sam called to his brother over the music, leading him through the crowd of people to a wooden table with booths on either side.

A petite woman with blonde, wavy hair and fair skin sat on one side of the booth, a beer resting in her hands. Sam slid in next to her and Dean slid on the other side, his eyes wandering the crowd, looking for a man with dark hair and a tan trench coat.

"Scoping out the eye-candy?" Jessica asked, a small smile on her lips and a knowing glint in her eyes.

Dean glanced over at them, watching Jess settle comfortably against Dam's side. "No, I uh.. I invited the guy I meet at K.O.K. company here tonight." Dean realized he hadn't asked either of them if it was okay that he invite another person along and he hoped that they would be fine with the added company.

"Castiel?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow. Dean had mentioned him a couple times to his brother, but they rarely talked about Dean's job due to the secrecy it required and the lamenting Dean had to listen to from Sam about how his job was dangerous and how guilty Sam felt. Then Jessica shrugged and Sam continued, "it'd be interesting to meet him."

"Yeah." Dean muttered, glancing up as he saw the door open. Castiel entered, looking as if he had not run across the city. His suit was still rumpled, but he hadn't even broken a sweat and the rising of his chest was a slow, even tempo, there was a slight pink flush on his cheeks that could be excused from the dropping temperatures outside. Dean wondered if the man had actually run the distance or if he had actually walked or cheated and taken transportation. Dean raised his hand, catching Castiel's attention. A few seconds later the blue eyes man slid into the booth next to Dean, fidgeting awkwardly at the stares of the couple across from him. Noticing the uncomfortable expression on Castiel's face Dean hurriedly jumped into introductions. "Guys, Castiel. Castiel-Sam, Jess."

There were murmured greetings all around and Castiel seemed to relax slightly, his shoulder dropping from their stiffened poses. He glanced up from the table and around the bar, taking in the people standing around and the few on the dance floor, swaying to the music that was playing from the jukebox. Memorabilia littered the walls and Castiel's eyes passed over them, taking in the items before he glanced over at Dean.

Sam was the first one to speak up. "So, Castiel, what's it like working with my big oaf of a brother?"

Jessica reached over and punched Sam's shoulder lightly with an exasperated sigh. Castiel glanced over a Dean in slight confusion before looking back at Sam. "It is pleasant. Currently, he is the only employee of the company worth talking to."

Dean snorted, "that's because they're all a bag of dicks."

Castiel's eyes widened at the language, but his face hardened slightly at the words the other man had used had used. "They have their reasons." Casteil replied in a cold voice.

"Yeah, yeah." Dean waved his hand in the air knowing they could not delve deeper into the topic. "Samantha here's just being a bitch. Aren't you, Sasquatch?"

"Whatever, Jerk." Sam replied, taking a sip of his beer.

Castiel's brows furrowed as he watched the other man sip his beverage. "I was under the impression that Sammy was short for Samuel. I was unaware that you had a female name. Your parents must have a wicked sense of humor." Surprise passed across the brother's face at Castiel's comment about their parents, but they were able to hide the dark clouds that rolled behind their eyes.

Jessica burst out laughing at the comment and Dean quickly followed suit, his hand thumping against the table as the deep laugh rang through his body, mixing with Jessica's bell-like laugh. "Cas, man," Dean patted his shoulder in a friendly gesture, "it's short for Samantha."

"Dean!" Sam growled out, placing his beer down on the table harder than necessary.

But Dean was saved from a lecture by the arrival of a lovely blonde woman with a grin on her face. "Well, if it isn't Dean Winchester and some handsome stranger."

"Jo." Dean greeted warmly, but his tone soon turned sarcastic. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes. I assume you're talking about me, but I'm not some stranger." He winked at her and Jo just chuckled and shook her head.

"Deano, that ship sailed a long time ago. Too bad you weren't onboard when it left." Jo replied, leaning against the top of the booth's seat.

Dean shrugged, glancing at the couple across the table and seeing them watching the exchange with small smiles. "I would have tap that ass when I had the chance, but I'm afraid of what you mother might do to my testicles if she found out."

Jo rolled her eyes, "yeah, she is one scary lady. But I'm more interested in your friend here, aren't you going to learn you manners and introduce us?"

It was Dean's turn to roll his eyes and he gestured at Castiel. "Castiel- Jo. Jo- Castiel. Now can we get something to drink and eat?"

"Wait your turn, Dean." Jo chided as she leaned down closer to Castiel. "What will it be for you?"

Castiel seemed to be uncomfortable with the attention that the female was lavishing on him. "Just a beer. Whatever's on tap, please."

Her eyes widened when he heard Castiel's voice, and if possible her eyes became more interested in the stranger sitting at their table. The look she gave him was one Dean knew since Jo and him were good friends. She wanted Castiel and for some reason that put an anxious feeling in Dean stomach that Castiel would be on the receiving end of her advances. "Sure thing. How about you, Dean?"

Dean chuckled and shook his head. "Beer, tap as well. And your famous bacon cheeseburger with fries. Oh, get one for Castiel as well." Dean glanced at the blue eyed man who was trying to inconspicuously move away from the looming blonde. "You gotta be hungry after you long day of work."

Castiel made a noncommittal gesture, turning to look at Dean before Jo asked, "where do you work?"

"K.O.K. Company." He responded, turning to look back at Jo, his blue eyes surveying her face.

Jo raised her eyebrows and Dean knew exactly what was going through her head. It was along the same lines of what had gone through his head when he had first heard that he would be picking up items from the company. Castiel had to be relatively wealthy, especially since he was a suit in the business, and the company paid their employee's generously. There also had to be an air of secrecy, and Dean knew Jo loved a good mystery. "So..." Jo began as if he was choosing her words carefully. "What is it that you do?"

Castiel paused, hands resting lightly in his lap, his eyes turning to focus on them before his voice rumbled out. "I am not allowed to talk about my dealing in the company."

Jo's lips formed into a pout, "really?"

"Yes, Joanna-Beth, it's a secret. Now go get us our drinks." Dean growled, her delay was costing him precious time to get intoxicated and find a woman to take home. Especially since it looked like Sam would be spending the night at Jessica's apartment because it was closer to the Roadhouse. Although that had always confused him since Jess practically lived at their apartment anyways.

Dean glanced out the window, watching a car meander by on the road before he felt Castiel stiffen next to him. When he turned to look, Joanna was sitting in Castiel's lap, her side pressed against his chest, her arms around his neck, and her legs dangling off the side of the booth.

"Jo!" The three unoccupied people in the booth exclaimed.

Dean noticed Castiel's uncomfortable pose and the way he was trying to strain away from the blonde pressed up against him but was unable to due to the back of the booth. "What are you doing Jo?" Dean sighed, used to her antics.

"I want to know."

"So you're going to try to seduce him to get the information from him? I think he's trained a little better than that." Dean grunted in reply, shrugging and throwing an apologetic glance at the man next to him who was looking at him with a frantic expression.

Jo leaned up and pressed a light kiss to Castiel's stubbled jaw. He closed his eyes when the lips made contact with his skin. "You never know, it might work." Jo chuckled in a joking manor. She continued her kissing down his jaw and to his neck and Dean was sure he saw Castiel tilt his head just a little in order to give the woman better access to his skin.

In a deep, but breathy voice, Castiel replied to her. "I am honestly unable to talk about my work. It is an inconvenience at social meetings such as this."

"You heard him, Jo." Dean chuckled, placing his hands on her back and pushing her off Castiel's lap. "Now go get us our order."

She chuckled, leaning down to place a light kiss on Castiel's cheek and whisper something into his ear that made his eyes widen slightly and clear his throat. "Fine, bossy." Joanna replied with a quirk of the corner of her lips and darted off into the crowd towards the bar.

"That's Jo for you." Sam piped up, his hazel eyes following the retreating apron.

Jessica glanced up at him. "Are you looking at her ass?"

"Wha-? No- I-" Sam sputtered, his face turning slightly red from the accusation.

"Because she does have a rather nice one." Jess replied, a cheeky smile on her lips and leaning up to kiss her boyfriend.

Dean made a disgusted face and turned to look at Castiel who was watching the kissing couple with slight interest. His hands were back in his laps and a light bruise was forming on his neck from where Jo had lightly nipped at the skin. "Sorry about that. Sometimes when Jo wants someone she'll do anything."

Castiel's eyes turned from Jess and Sam to land on Dean. "She wants me?"

"Oh yeah, buddy, a lot." Dean chuckled, raising one of his hands to run through his short blond hair. He shrugged himself out of his leather coat revealing the dark green t-shirt underneath, the heat from the bar warming his body. "Though if you need I can talk her out of her advances. You seemed pretty..." Dean didn't know how to finish that sentence. At first Castiel had seemed uncomfortable and had no desire for the woman sitting in his lap, but then everything changed when Castiel had tilted his head, allowing her kisses on his skin and looking as if he was enjoying them.

"I am unaccustomed to human contact. My profession leaves little time for relationships or romantic attachments." Castiel replied, his eyes returning to the wooden top of the table, his eyes following the pattern flowing across the panels.

Dean was uncertain as to how he should reply to that information. So he sucked in a deep breath and smiled at Castiel. "Maybe tonight you'll get lucky."

"Maybe." Castiel's replied in a monotonous voice.

All four of them were startled as a bunch of bottles landed on the table. Jo pulled up a chair and handed out the beers to each person at the table keeping one for herself. She placed eight shot glasses in front of Castiel and eight in front of herself, preparing to fill them up with some whiskey that would burn like a motherfucker going down.

"Here's what we're going to do, Castiel, we're going to play a game. Whoever can drink their shots the fastest wins, and the winner gets a prize."

"Jo..." Sam warned. The last time either Dean or Sam had played against her they had gotten absolutely trashed and walked out owing Jo multiple favors. She had actually made Dean parade around in a woman's thong while Sam covered her shifts for the next week.

But Jo kept on talking. "If I win, you answer any questions I have and..." She paused, thinking of something to create a higher stake. "Take me out on a date."

Castiel surveyed the eight glasses and then the whiskey, glancing at the woman's outstretched hand. "If I win..."

"Cas, this isn't a good idea. She's a pro at this." Dean warned, nudging his elbow into Castiel's side.

"If I win..." Castiel repeated, "then you pay Dean's bar tab for the rest of the month." Jo raised her eyebrows but nodded, a small smile on her lips. Castiel took her hand and they shook.

Silence surrounded their table as she poured the sixteen shots, each of them lining them up in a straight line in front of them.

"Ready, set... go!" Jess called out when they were prepared.

Jo didn't even have a chance, Castiel breezed through the shots and was on his last one just as she was starting her fifth. As he slammed the last shot down on the table, bottom up, a real smile appeared on his face.

Sam broke the silence with a whispered, 'wow'. And then praise erupted from everyone. Jo laughed and began to clean up the mess they made, idly chatting away before she left.

Conversation resumed, breaching topics such as Sam's school, the construction zone on West Avenue, the new coffee shop that was opening, and some stories from the past. Sam and Castiel got into a a deep conversations about philosophy and the effects that mental illness might have one a persons perception of the world. Jessica listened, interjecting a few comments occasionally, but she kept up a steady conversation about Dean's cars and the repair it might need to the radiator.

Jo brought their burgers to them and when he leaned over Casitel to place Dean's food down, Castiel reached out and cupped her chin, almost hesitantly. She smiled and leaned in, meeting his lips with hers.

It didn't last too long but Jo pulled away, biting her lower lip in an almost shy way. "Was that my consolidation prize?"

A rumbling laugh came from Castiel. "If you want it to be."

"Then I think I want another." Jo murmured, leaning in and gently kissing Castiel on the lips again before she smiled at him and left to tend to other patrons.

The drinks kept coming, although Jessica and Dean stopped around the third beer, knowing they would need to drive back home. Dean was surprised at how much alcohol the man could handle, barely showing any influence until it was nearing the bar's closing time. It was then, as it was emptying out that Dean had forgotten to scout out a woman and sweet talk her home with him.

Suddenly, Castiel seemed to sag against him, his bright blue eyes slightly hazy from intoxication. Sam chuckled, looking at the two. "You'd make a cute couple. Especially since he's around the same height as you, shorty."

"Shut up, Sammy. You're girlfriends rather short." Dean replied, pushing Castiel back up into a sitting position.

Sam furrowed his brows, glancing to look at his girlfriend who had a small smile on her lips. "You're bossy."

"What?" Jessica asked.

"Not you. Dean." Sam muttered, it took a great effort for his brother to swing his drunken gaze on Dean.

Jessica shrugged at Dean and shook her head. "I guess it's time for us to leave, before Sam falls asleep right here. That's never fun."

"Yeah, you have fun with that." Dean replied, turning to glance at Castiel who was currently watching the lights flicker around. "I'll take care of this one, make sure he can get home alright."

Jessica nodded, herding Sam out of the booth, telling him to say his goodbyes. Sam leaned over Castiel, almost falling into his lap as he hugged Dean, and then moved to hug Castiel. "You're awesssome. Pleassse. Come back again." Sam laughed, rubbing his cheek against Castiel's stubble. The other man just watched Sam with a curious look. "Boop!" Sam murmured as he tapped Castiel's nose lightly and staggered away with Jessica's arms supporting him.

"Cas?" Dean called out, watching the unfocused blue eyes turn to survey him.

Castiel tilted his head, as if letting the single syllable process. "Cas..."

"Yeah, Cas, are you okay to get home."

Castiel blinked slowly and then nodded. "Yes. I am fine. Is it time to go?"

"Yup." Dean replied, grabbing his coat and scooting out of the booth after Castiel. Castiel took a few wavering steps towards the door before he staggered, holding his hands out in front of him. "Okay." Dean muttered grabbing Castiel's blue folder off the table and catching up with his friend and placing an arm under his elbow. "I'll drive you home."

"There is no need. I can make it myself." Castiel retorted, allowing Dean to steer him towards the door.

Dean opened the door and sent Castiel through it first, staying close to him. "You're drunk."

"That is not of import." The other man replied, holding up his hand as he passed a red Ford Focus. Even though he protested, he allowed Dean to lead him to the passenger side of the Chevy Impala and help him get in. Dean moved around the to the drivers side and expertly slid in placing the folder in the back of the car and putting the keys in the ignition and turning the car on. "So this is your baby..." Castiel murmured, his hands running over the dashboard and Dean bit back the request not to get smudges over his pristine car.

Dean pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road. "Yup, she is. Where do you live?"

"134 Seraphim Ave, Garrison Courts." Castiel murmured, resting his head against the window as Dean switched lanes to go to the west end of Stanford, the higher class area. Dean drove along, watching the passenger quietly. He seemed to be sleeping and Dean was perfectly fine with that, as long as he did not vomit in his classic car. Then there would be Hell to pay.

A quiet mumble escaped Castiel's lips and his blue eyes turned to gaze at Dean through heavy lids. "Cold."

"It's because of all the alcohol in your system." He reached over and turned the heat up in the car. "How'd you learn to drink like that anyways?"

"M'brothers." Castiel murmured, shifting in his seat, his hand resting on the space between them. "Warm..." Castiel said shuffling over and he seemed to be basking in the heat that radiated off Dean's body. Castiel's hands tentatively pressed to Dean side and he had to repress a shiver running through his body at the contact, he could feel the other man's cold hands even through his layers of clothing.

"Come here" Dean muttered, pulling Castiel's small body against his and wrapping his arm around the other man's shoulders. Castiel seemed to sink into the warmth, pulling his trench coat around himself and staying silent. "Jo's a good kisser." Dean commented for lack of anything better to say. He had first hand knowledge in what her lips felt like and the way she expertly moved her against his.

"Mm." Castiel murmured in agreement, burying his face into Dean's shoulder and staying silent for the rest of the drive.

Garrison court was one of the fanciest areas to live in Stanford and Dean couldn't help but whistle as he pulled up to the entrance gate of the community. Castiel groaned as Dean shifted his arm to put the car in park. "Cas, we're here. I can't go in because I don't know the passcode."

Castiel looked up with bleary eyes, peering through the windshield. "5646-418." He recited carefully, closing his eyes and pushing his face against Dean's shoulder. It took the driver a few times to get the code right, but when he did, the gate began moving back and Dean drove through. Only a hundred uyards from the entrance Castiel grunted, "Stop. I need some fresh air." Dean complied as Castiel carefully extracted himself from Dean's side and moved over to the passenger door, his hand on the handle before he turned back to Dean. "Thank you. Have a good night, Dean."

And with that the man left the car, weaving over to the sidewalk and heading down the road towards where he lived. Dean watched until Castiel was out of sight before he backed up and pulled out onto the road, heading to his apartment near the center of Stanford, a few blocks away from the university. He pulled into the underground parking, locking his car and jogging up the few flights of stairs to where his apartment was located. It took his a few seconds to locate the key on the ring and when he found it he unlocked the door and entered his home.

When he turned to close the door behind him something hard his the back of his head and pain exploded from the area, radiating out to his limbs. The last thing Dean knew his body had fallen to a crumpled heap on the floor before unconsciousness took him over.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** The Heist  
**Author:** castiel-thepizzaman  
**Pairing:** eventual Dean/Castiel  
**Rating:** NC-17 or M overall, this chapter is PGish.  
**Warnings:** Languaaageee

**A/N: **I wrote this while I was with my best friend. Whose the only person who knows that I write fanfic. She writes Glee fanfic and is kinda out of it since our mutual friend ruined it for her. But I gave her a prompt with Klaine and now she and I write together. I promise our time spent together is actually more exciting than it sounds. Have some random spurting of my life.

Buuut on to the new chapter. Suggestions are amazing =]

Chapter Three

"Crap, crap, crap. Dean? Dean, come on man, answer me." A worried, high pitched male's voice called out to him. Subconsciously, Dean knew that voice from somewhere, but his mind was too sluggish to work. Everything around him sounded dull and far away. His limbs wouldn't move at his command, instead they laid like dead-weights. His head was on fire, especially where the solid object had collided with his occipital lobe. "I didn't mean to hit you so hard. Dean?" The voice called again, this time sounding much closer than it had before. Light slaps hit his cheeks and a soft moan issued from his mouth, the numbing areas of the slap tingling his senses.

Without opening his eyes, Dean tried to reach up to cradle the back of his head, his mind sluggishly thinking pressure would help at the moment. He put too much power into the movement, overcompensating for the numb, heavy limbs and ended up smacking himself in the face with both of his hands. Pulling at them, Dean realized they were tied together and no amount of tugging would release them from their bindings. A sharp pain radiated from the back of his head at the movements and Dean slowly opened his eyes, heavy lids barely cracking open. Everything was blurry, but he could just make out some shapes in the darkness. "Wha... what's happening?" His voice was rough, and it cracked in the middle of the sentence. Confusion and unconsciousness tinting the voice a darker shade that usual.

"Dean? Oh thank God, I thought I had actually done some real damage. You've been out for the past couple of minutes." Dean focused on the man leaning over him with wide, worrying eyes, and a mess of brown curls. From the way he hunched over Dean's body, he could tell who it was instantly from the short, skinny stature.

Groaning, Dean tried to roll himself over in order to get to his knees and stand, but because most of his body was not listening to him, he managed to flop onto his stomach, trapping his tied hands beneath him. "Chuck. What the _fuck_ is going on?" He swore, cream carpet muffling his words and making him seem less threatening than he really was. Two pairs of hands grabbed him, much too large to be Chuck's nimble fingers, and pulled him up in a standing position. He tried not to sag, but due to the lead in his legs, still recovering from the blow that rattled his brain, he slumped. Dean instantly surveyed his surroundings, noticing Adam, Ash, and Gordon with him, these four men working in the same company as him. "Well, well, well, if it isn't the three stooges."

"There's four of us, dumb ass." Adam growled, removing his hand from Dean's shoulder and he suddenly found himself missing the support.

Dean tried his best to stand up straight, shrugging off Gordon's hand and glaring at Adam. "Yeah, well, what can I say, Ash is probably the best guy out of all of you." That was true, out of the four men stationed in the room, Dean and Ash were the closest, they often went out drinking after work since they usually got back at the same time. The man was slightly odd, looking like a redneck with a mullet when really he was a whizz with computers. After he had gotten kicked out of M.I.T. he had traveled all over, going from job to job. Plus, he wasn't a complete nutcase, like Chuck, or an asshole, like Adam and Gordon.

The mullet-hair man glanced up at Dean and pursed his lips, almost imperceptibly shaking his head to signal to Dean that this was not the time to joke around. Although Dean caught the movement he usually attempted to ignore anything that would help him. Chuck stepped forward, his hands nervously twisting around the other as he stared at the carpet beneath Dean's feet. "We've got to take you somewhere, Dean. It's... you need to be included."

The statement confused Dean and before he knew it, Gordon was pushing at his back, shoving him towards the door. "Kidnapping me? Kinky." Dean growled, clicking his teeth together as he glanced back at Gordon.

"No, no no!" Chuck said startled. "No, you'll be back tonight. Promise." Chuck opened the door and Adam grabbed the bindings around Dean's wrists and lead him forward so it would be harder for him to escape.

"You're damn lucky it wasn't Sam who walked through that door or I would have killed you." Dean growled as he saw Adam open the car door for him and Gordon shove him in the back seat, following him in. Ash took the other side, forcing Dean to sit in the middle, squished between Gordon and Ash while Chuck took the passenger's seat and Adam slipped into the drivers seat.

Chuck visibly paled at that comment, not putting it past Dean to cause physical harm for his brother's sake. "Easy now," Gordon whispered in his ear, the soft drawl sending nervous tingles up Dean's spine. "No one would want to hurt a pretty little hair on you'r brother's head."

What made it worse was that this comment was coming from Gordon Walker's mouth. Someone who had it in for his younger brother since the day he met him on the warehouse floor of the Armour Vehicle company. Bobby like Dean and in return, took care of his younger brother when he was out on trips. At the beginning of Sam's first year at Stanford, he was having a difficult day and went to the company in order to wait for his brother to get back. One comment, Dean didn't even know what the comment was, and Gordon desired seeing Sam's blood spilled on the floor.

"Fuck you, Gordon, yo-" Dean was cut off by a pressure on his wrist and he glanced over, seeing Ash's hand wrapped around his wrist, staring straight was a warning, and he realized that. Ash let go and Dean relaxed slightly, leaning away from Gordon and in towards Ash's personal space. If the man minded, he didn't comment, instead staring at Chuck's curly hair. At that moment, Dean wondered what it was that was causing these men to act this way. Often, Ash was slightly intoxicated and as happy as could be, not caring what happened. Gordon was always an ass, but there was something stiff about his posture. Adam never talked to Dean, they were totally different people and had nothing to communicate about, so more often than not they avoided each other. Chuck was nice enough, if sometimes he questioned whether the other man was actually all there or not, he was writing a book, trying to get out of the transportation industry.

There was silence in the car as they drove along, the car winding through the city before getting on the highway and heading towards the mountains. A half hour later they were on a dirt road, twisting through the trees until they came to an abandoned building, what could have been a small factory back in it's prime. Admittedly, it still looked good and Dean could only assume the reason it failed was because of it's location. Adam drove the car through the gates, parking it next to two other sleek looking vehicles. They reflecting the moon light off their black exteriors, and even though Dean hadn't a clue who else was here, he had a great desire to rub his hands along the shiny paint, messing up the wax job that the owners had worked hard on.

Instead, he felt a tug on his elbow and noticed Ash standing next to him, attempting to get him to walk away from the cars. Dean threw them one last glare before he began to walk, following Ash, a few steps behind the trio.

"Whatever they say, just agree with them, it'll do you no good to refuse." Ash whispered into his ear, leaning so close that his lips were almost grazing Dean's earlobe.

Dean pulled away to survey Ash's face, attempting to gleam any information, but the other man's face was stoic, only his eyes were slightly wade as if wanting Dean to heed his advice. "What's goin' on, Ash?" Dean asked glancing at the building in front of him, seeing it looming ahead.

Ash paused for a second and Dean stopped as well, watching his friend slowly open his mouth, "it's-"

"Ash!" Adam called out, and they glanced to see the three other men looking back at them. Ash touched Dean's elbow and they continued forward, meeting the men at the doorway to the factory before they entered. It was dark and Gordon turned on a flashlight, taking the lead. Dean soon became lost as they traveled through multiple hallways and doors. But Gordon knew where he was going, or at least he seemed like he did, and they must have reached the room they needed when Gordon stopped, turning off his flashlight and reaching over to the wall, turning a small knob. Lights flickered on and Adam grabbed the binding on Dean's wrist's taking him away from Ash and forcefully shoving him into the wooden chair in located in the middle of the floor.

Dean grunted at the force, feeling the bindings rubbing against his skin, creating a raw feeling. "Hazing's illegal." Dean glared up at the man, wishing he wasn't put in such a vulnerable state, lower than the other people in the room and tied up, unable to do anything if the need arose.

"We're not in high school anymore, Dean." Adam replied, talking a step back. The answer was cryptic and Dean just grunted, attempting to wriggle the bonds on his wrist a little looser so they weren't biting into his skin as hard.

Silence descended on the group as a pair of ringing footsteps echoed around them, casting off the wall in a jarring manor and cutting through the silence. Dean's eyes strained through the dim light, attempting to see the person who was approaching them. It wasn't until the man crossed underneath a flickering light did Dean finally see who he was up against. The man was short, slightly rounder, with thinning black hair and an air around him that seemed like he was rather important. He was wearing a black suit and in his hand he held a small glass which could have been filled with anything but Dean was willing to bet it was expensive scotch. The man passed the light and was plunged into darkness until he was barely a few feet from Dean, dark eyes surveying the man sitting in the chair.

It was uncomfortable sitting down, even in the short statured man's presence, and Dean found himself trying to struggle against Adam's hand on his shoulder, battling for dominance. Due to his height advantage Adam was able to subdue Dean's struggling, his green eyes glaring at the man in front of him who only watched him with an amused expression.

"Dean Winchester." The man finally spoke, his voice holding a strong accent that caused the words to come out in a deep, glossy rumble.

Dean froze at his name. "Well, since you know my name, it would only be polite to let me know yours." Dean bit back, not caring if he sounded brash and rude. Dragging him here in the middle of the night was rather uncalled for and he felt like he had the right to act the way he did.

The man raised one of his eyebrows, a small, cocky smile growing on his lips. "My, my, my, testy thing aren't we? Name's Crowley if you must know."

"Crowley." Dean rolled the name around in his mouth, still glaring at the bemused man in front of him. Crowley just looked back, undaunted, taking a small sip of the glass in his hand. "Why don't you take these ropes off me and we'll talk?"

It was a long shot and from the soft chuckle that escaped Crowley lips, he knew that the suggestion was not going to be done. "I can't so that, see, I know men like you. Big, tough... dumb. It would be best we talk like this. Wouldn't want anything to happen now, would we?"

Dean had no regard for his own health, for some reason he never put himself first or thought about his well-being in a situation. All he could think about was his anger at the injustice of the situation. They could leave him here, mangled on the floor, bleeding to death and he would still try to hurt them for what was happening. "Fuck, man, you just don't wanna see how I can smash your face into a pulp."

The stares continued, green staring against brown. The smile on Crowley's face had disappeared and all that laid there was anger that seemed to always reside beneath the surface. He took a step closer and Dean tried not to flinch as the power the man seemed to wield covered him. Crowley leaned down, resting his hands on the arms of the chair and moved in so their faces were barely a few inches apart. In a rather pleasant voice that clashed with his exterior Crowley murmured to Dean, "your brother... Sam?" Dean instantly stiffened when he realized how dirty Crowley was playing. "Rather nice kid. I bet you'd do anything to make sure he's happy. Jessica makes him happy." Crowley's voice turned icy cold. "Beautiful, blonde girl. It would be a shame if Sam woke up with her head in his bed and the rest of her body missing. And I can guarantee, you will never find the body."

"Fuck you." Dean hated this man in front of him. Crowley knew how to control him, and Dean did not know how far this man would go to achieve whatever goal he had in mind.

Crowley didn't miss a beat, the smile was back on his face as he surveyed the sitting man. "Later, Winchester, I have more important things to tend to right now." The shorter man pushed himself away from the chair, looking down into his drink and swirling it around, watching as the ice cubes clinked against the glass. "You pick up packages from K.O.K. Company every Friday?"

"Nope." Dean replied, having no desire to continue the conversation with the man in front of him and for some reason lying seemed like the best way. He didn't want Crowley to know anything, at least this was a small way of resisting. A strong hand came down across the side of Dean's face, causing his head to twist to the side in pain at the force. A surprised gasp elicited his mouth and he struggled against Adam's hands to get at the son of a bitch who was watching him with his intense dark eyes.

"Now, now, Dean. Let's be a good sport." Crowley murmured, and the look in his eyes almost looked like he wanted Dean to be a nuisance and defy him. "How was the bar tonight? Castiel seemed to be enjoying the waitresses attention, didn't he?" A cold chill rushed through his body at the new knowledge that he was being watched, and he did not know how long this activity had been going on. Crowley watched the change in Dean's face, a small, triumphant smile gracing his lips. "Yes, we've been keeping a careful eye on you and Castiel."

Finally Dean snapped, his burning eyes meeting Crowley's as he growled out a snappy reply. "So what? What do we matter to you?"

"You? Barely anything except that you transfer some items for the K.O.K. company. Castiel? Well, let's just say without him, the whole company would fail. Everyone thinks that Zachariah is the backbone that holds the structure up, but in fact, without Castiel... it would collapse." His voice was like silk and Dean glanced away from the man and towards Ash, Chuck, and Gordon, seeing them all staring at the ground, anywhere but at the scene unfolding in front of them. "What I need from you, is your cooperation."

"And you think you deserve that?" Dean replied, turning his eyes back on Crowley who was watching him of the rim of his scotch glass as he took a sip.

"Of course not, Dean. I don't need you love and friendship. I need your fear. Fear is powerful, it causes people to do rash actions." Crowley turned, glancing at the other people in the room and Dean realized he had something for each of them. Something that would cause them to give Crowley their dutiful cooperation.

Crowley returned to facing Dean as if waiting for a reply. "I'm not afraid of you." Dean spat back, anger and annoyance tinting his low timbre.

Another soft chuckle escaped the man, as if what Dean said was amusing. "No, not me Dean, though you should be. But of what I can do. Think of poor, little Jess. Blood matting her blonde hair and blank eyes. Oh, how Sammy would cry. I bet he would hug her head to his chest and rock back and forth, crying like the little girl he is... or moose... whichever you prefer."

The room suddenly felt cold, colder than it had before as if Crowley's words brought the frost with them. Dean's breathing hitched and he felt his heart beat speed up and despite the chill in the air there was a thin sheen of sweat the ghosted across his skin. The threat was immaculate, calculated, well thought out to hit him in his weakest spots, it was dirty. And Dean had no doubt that Crowley would go through with it as well.

Though, Dean's mind hurriedly attempted to think of ways out of the situation he was currently in and was unable to find anything. Fear and anguish coursed through his body while his face staying in the stoic battle with Crowley's gaze. He wouldn't give in so easily, he couldn't. At the moment the best he could do was agree with Crowley and hope for the best, hope that Sam and Jessica and even Castiel could get through this alive.

A resigned sigh passed between Dean's lips before his gaze dropped to the floor. He was frustrated that he was unable to find a way out of the mess he was in and knowing that he needed to take the safest way in order to protect Sam and Jessica. "What do I need to do?" His voice was soft and cautious, but it had a defeated quality to it.

"That, Winchester, is on a need to know basis." The dark aura that surrounded Crowley seemed to lighten at the prospect of Dean's alliance. "I shall contact you when the time and the need arises." Crowley reached out a hand as if to shake Deans, but drew it back with a click of his tongue and a glance at the ropes that bound the sitting man's hands. "It's a pleasure to do business with you." With that Crowley turned and headed back the way he came, the shoes, once again, echoing around the factory walls and they met the cement floor.

Even after the shoes had faded away into silence the five men in the room stayed still and quiet, no one bearing to break the quiet.

Suddenly Dean turned towards the group of three standing on the side near the wall. "What the fuck?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** The Heist  
**Author:** castiel-thepizzaman  
**Pairing:** eventual Dean/Castiel  
**Rating:** NC-17 or M overall, this chapter is PGishh.  
**Warnings:** Language

**A/N: **New chapter. I guess this is sort of a filler chapter. And it's short. Sorry. Don't worry though, next chapter should be better!

Suggestions are amazing =]

Chapter Four

"You heard him, Dean, he's got something on each of us. We can't get out of it." Ash said, walking towards him with a knife he pulled out of his pants pockets. He reached for Dean's hands and sawed through the rope that held him, letting them drop to the floor with a light noise. Dean rubbed his wrists, bending them back in froth in order to feel the blood tingling and flowing through his hands. "Come on." Ash added on, holding out his hand to Dean who took it, letting the standing man pull him to his feet. Dean was actually surprised by Ash's strength, meaning that for once, he was sober.

Rope burns stung his wrists when he tried to move them and there was a clear indent where they cut through his skin. Whoever tied them did a good job. The other three men stood silently around the room, watching Dean warily as if they were waiting for him to strike. Ash was the only one who had approached Dean and gotten close enough to striking distance, but he wasn't that cheep, he wouldn't hit his one friend at the company. If Gordon had been closer Dean would have definitely let his fists fly and land a solid punch on Gordon's jaw.

Dean took a step towards the door, not wanting to stay in the warehouse a second longer. "Well, there's got to be a way." Dean growled, letting his hands drop to his side, realizing that the added pressure of his fingers were not doing anything to extinguish the pain from the bindings. Instead, his adrenaline was wearing off, causing the pounding in his head to become recognized. Reaching up, Dean cupped the back of his head, feeling the dried blood coating his hair. "Chuck, you pack a strong hit for such a little guy." Dean spat the words out so the shaken man would know it wasn't a compliment.

"Come on, Winchester, don't act this way. Just cooperate so we all wont get fucked in the ass." Gordon Walker's voice rumbled over to him and Dean's green eyes instantly met the other man, glaring at him and forcing him to balk down.

"What, Walker? Crowley threatening your little boyfriend?" Dean growled, taking another step towards Walker, digging his fingernails into his palms in frustration. He knew this was not a logical way to solve this problem, but at the moment taking anger out on Gordon seemed like a good way to solve some of his aggression and helplessness, forcing his insecurities and doubt to the back of his mind. "Poor, little Mikey."

Gordon tensed, a muscle in his jaw twitching when Dean insinuated that he was gay. They all knew that Mike and Gordon were close friends instead of lovers, but with the amount of time they spent with each other, it could easily be interpreted as something more, especially with the hunting trips the men went on often.

Chuck stepped between them, their intense glare broken by the mop of curly, brown hair. "Let's calm down and deal with this like rational people." Adam snorted and Chuck's lips pursed since he knew he was the exact opposite of a rational person. "Dean, Ash is right, he's got something that he can blackmail us with. For me it's Becky."

"But you don't even really like her anymore. Something about her sexual prowess." Dean replied, his brow furrowed as he looked at the small man in front of him. He always thought Becky might do Chuck some good, get him out of his shell and a more lucid person. Though their relationship might not be working out at the moment there could always be a change and Dean realized that after the words came out of his mouth.

Chuck's eyes widened slightly and fear passed across his already nervous features. "I don't want a dead body on my conscious!" Dean just nodded as if he understood, but he wouldn't mind the girl leaving his life forever. She fawned over Sam too much, even when he told her he wasn't interested and eventually told her he wasn't available. "Crowley threatened Adam with his mother and Gordon's got Mike and his sister to worry about."

A question was left hanging and Dean was about to ask it when Gordon spoke. "He had to add in my sister when threatening with Mike since I wouldn't budge." From what Dean knew, Gordon's sister had already been kidnapped once in her life by a vampire pretend freak, of course Gordon would do anything to protect her, it seemed like Crowley's tough calculations had failed him one time and Dean wish he had been there to see it.

"And with me, Crowley threatened Jo and Ellen." Ash shook his head slowly, "they're pretty much my family and I couldn't do that to them." The two women had taken in Ash when he made his stop in Stanford, making him an honorary Harvelle, and it was causing Ash was staying in this city longer than he had any other place and Dean suspected it was sue to the two women keeping him grounded in life.

"Yeah, well think about what we're doing to them by agreeing to this." The Winchester knew he was being stubborn, but he felt trapped and it was something he didn't like. He was being irrational and ill-tempered and he knew he needed some time to himself to think everything through.

For the first time Adam spoke up, his soft accent dancing across the walls of the room. "Think about what will happen if we don't. At least they'll still have their lives."

Silence enveloped them. It was better than the alternative. Refuse and cause multiple people to die who don't deserve it. Not only will will they be dead, but close family members will be hurt and the five men in the room would be forever blaming themselves, wracked with guilt at the action. It was a simple choice, this way, they could only hurt themselves, though Dean had a lingering feeling that there would be some collateral damage.

"Whatever, there's nothing we can do until Crowley contacts us again. I think we could all use a drink." Ash muttered, turning away from them and heading towards the door they came in. It was a silent invitation to go back to the Roadhouse and have a few drinks.

The air between all of them was still tense, but not as bad as it had been when Dean had been dragged in here, confused, disoriented, and angry. Adam tossed the keys to Ash and Dean forced Chuck to sit in the back with Adam and Gordon, not wanting to be squished and Chuck had a lot less muscle mass then all of them. The ride to the bar was silent, all that had needed to be said had been done in the warehouse, now they just brooded in their own thoughts. Except Ash, who turned on the radio to a random station and tapped on the steering wheel to the quiet music. They must have been to the warehouse before since Ash had correctly gotten them onto the highway without messing up. When he got on, he pressed down hard on the accelerator, feeling the car's speed rise as they headed towards the city. Dean just watched the passing trees and drifted off in his thoughts.

Ignoring the speed they were traveling and Ash's rather frantic and frightening driving. He had to say yes to Crowley, there was no way he was going to harm Sam's chance at a perfect future. And Jessica was practically like a sister to him, there was no way he was going to threaten her life when she deserved everything. Hell, she deserved life more than Dean did, she deserved everything more than him. In the warehouse, when he couldn't find a loophole for Jessica and Sam, Dean hadn't hesitated to agree and lend his services to Crowley. But what about Castiel? This would affect him as well and Dean had barely given the blue eyed man a second thought. But now, all he was thinking about was the man and the strange friendship they had built over the past year. It was just another person added to this crazy equation and it reminded why Dean usually kept his distance from people. It was easier, it was better. Although, he could admit that the friendship he had with Castiel was one of the better parts of his life. It was comfortable and it just snuck in. Dean was possessive and he knew he didn't want to let go of the friendship Castiel and him had just yet.

Ash turned off the highway and maneuvered to the Roadhouse easily because of the late hour. He parked the car in the back of the building that was reserved for the tenant that lived in the apartment above the bar, which just happened to be the Harvelles. They all disbanded from the car, shutting the doors quietly behind them due to the late hour and the fact that people were sleeping. The bar had closed hours ago, but Ash let them in, flipping on the lights and telling them to take a seat at the bar. He needed to go up and tell Ellen that some friends from work were in the bar. A few minutes later Ash reappeared and grabbed a shot glass out for each person. There was little complaint when the mullet-haired man pulled out expensive whiskey and poured everyone a shot.

No one said a word when they all downed their shot at the same time in one fluid motion. Chuck coughed at the burn while Adam and Gordon let out a small gasp at the strength. Dean and Ash stayed quiet, still lost in their own thoughts as the man behind the bar poured a second shot.

It continued that way for a third before Adam spoke up again. "So anyone know anything about what we're going to be doing?"

Eyes glanced around, staring at each other waiting for someone else to talk. From the look of everyone's face no one knew much.

"Just that they want something from K.O.K." Chuck shrugged, finally being the one to speak. He rolled the shot glass around his hands, the usual nervousness that defined the man setting in. "Like Crowley said, need to know basis. Though I suspect Dean will know the most out of everyone. He does the deliveries."

Everyone turned to look at Dean and he just shrugged, "hey, all I know is what you saw today."

Ash moved to pour them their fourth shot and by then, everyone lapsed back into silence. Raising his glass, Ash muttered in a sarcastic voice, "a toast to threats and pressure. Here goes probably the most stupidest thing we've ever agreed to." Ash drained the amber liquid in his glass and slammed it down on the table. Every one followed suit and the tension seemed to leave the room. Even if something goes horribly wrong they have each other- as unwanted and aggravating that is- through it. Ash turned and grabbed his coat off the bar counter and shrugged into it. "Let's get home."

The scrapes of bar stools signaled that the other men were following his example as they slid out of the chair and hit the ground. Dean felt slightly dizzy from the head injury combined with four shots of alcohol. But he was able to stumble out after Ash, sliding into the passenger seat and leaning his head against the window as they drove. Ash dropped Chuck off first, watching the man go into the brick, four story building, using a key to open the door to the common area. Then Dean began to recognize the neighborhood and knew they were stopping at his apartment next. When Ash stopped in front of his building Dean nodded a small goodbye and opened the car door to exit. The walk to the entrance of the apartment complex seemed to be longer than usual but Dean made it to the doors and pushed through them as the car holding the other three men left the sidewalk and continued on to it's next destination.

Stumbling up the stairs Dean finally stood in front of the the door of his apartment and grappled with the key, pushing it into the lock and twisting. Once he heard the satisfying click he opened the door and fumbled for the light. When the living room was revealed to him he hissed, seeing that blood from his head injury had stained the white carpet. At the moment he did not want to deal with it, but fear that Sam would return early and see it caused him the need to deal with it as soon as possible.

Dean walked the short distance to the dining room and combined kitchen, kneeling down in front of the sink and opening the doors. What greeted him was a lack of cleaning products and Dean shoved some windex aside looking for the bleach. A soft groan left his mouth when he realized that it was in the car. Sam had spilled some soda in the Impala and for repercussions Dean banned him from the car for a month and made him clean up the soda.

Slamming shut the cabinet doors with harder force than necessary, Dean left the apartment, taking the elevator down to the parking garage underneath the building. He pulled the keys out of his pocket as he traveled over to his precious car, unlocking the trunk and grabbing the bleach and the rags that Sam inconsiderately left in his car. No wonder the bleach smell hadn't faded. Slamming the trunk shut, Dean locked it and walked past his car, glancing into the back seat. It was then that he noticed the blue folder that Castiel had been carrying around that night. He froze, unsure about what to do.

Of course the folder needed to be returned to Castiel. But could it wait until next Friday? Dean opened the car door, grabbing the folder before he closed the door again and locked it. It took a lot of resistance not to open it and look at the information it was storing. Instead, he tucked it under his arm and set off, heading back to the lovely blood stain on his carpet.

It took ten minutes on his knees to scrub out the stain, making sure the area was a white and clean as the rest of the carpet, not that it took much effort since neither him nor Sam cleaned often. And by then, he knew he needed to return the folder to Castiel and had decided he would go visit the man tomorrow. After all, they were friends and he didn't know how significant important the folder was. Dean knew the area Castiel lived in and figured tomorrow morning he would go there.

Dean threw the rags away in the trash and placed the bleach underneath the sink before he walked down the small hall from the kitchen and entered the second bedroom. Collapsing on the bed, he grabbed the comforter and rolled it around him, letting a soft moan of approval leave his lips. Within minutes he was fast asleep, deciding to push everything from his mind and deal with it tomorrow.


End file.
